


Sugar Daddy, Bring it Home

by Axella779



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cock Rings, Corsetry, Elias is a little bitch brat, Figging, Financial Domination, Hand Jobs, Improper corset wearing, Interior Decorating, Light Cock and Ball Torture, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Peter Lukas, Peter is a nevernude, Peter is ambidextrous, Service Top, Sugar Daddy, The plot is there to frame the porn, Victorians were kinky freaks, but he likes it, just cock torture really, this is not a healthy relationship dynamic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24192655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axella779/pseuds/Axella779
Summary: Elias tricks Peter into buying him a fuckpad and does some interior decorating.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 7
Kudos: 109





	Sugar Daddy, Bring it Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steviekat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steviekat/gifts), [neglectedtuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neglectedtuesday/gifts).



> I have a degree in historical costume, don’t argue with me about corsetry.
> 
> Research was done into figging. Would not recommend.
> 
> The spiked cockring is a real device called a Jugum Penis/Pollutions Ring.
> 
> Can we change my nickname on the group now, lads?

It had started as a pet project, buying the Victorian building. A prototype to what he hoped would be a viable Ritual somewhere down the line. He had wanted to start from scratch, to build a new structure from the ground up but Elias had convinced him otherwise. To start on a smaller scale. It would be easier this way. Keep the structural integrity of the exterior and gut the inside.

A dozen perfectly identical rooms, boxed in. Shared toilets on each flight of the landing. The illusion of community, but due to some imaginative renovations tenants would rarely make contact with each other. The spiraling column of the stairs allowed one to hear a neighbor descending from above with enough time to pick up pace, to be out the front door before being caught in an awkward compulsory greetings of “Hiya, good morning” while avoiding eye contact and silently praying this won’t become a custom should they cross paths again. In truth, it was Peter’s ideal living situation.

Each “flat” contained only one room. What they really were was overpriced cells. Each contained a small double bed. The large mattresses took up most of the precious space also occupied by an electric hob and oven, mini fridge, and even a small washing machine. Appliances included so one hardly had to leave the comfort of home. Studio Style Flat in South Kensington, ideal for young single professionals the adverts had touted. For those playing at poshness and wanting to boast their W2 postcode and centralized location, but never enough room to actually host any visitors. Only borderline affordable.

Peter had worked closely with the contractors to make sure each flat was as identical as possible, which they were from the ground to the forth floor. The trouble was the space of the fifth floor which was oddly shaped due to the incline of the roof. The zig zagging stairs going up the entirety of the house ended in a small landing which then continued upwards one more flight in a short and narrow set of steps with a door at the top. Through the door was the fifth floor, which had been an unfinished attic space for storage when the house was built around 1860. The room itself was easily three times the size of any of the flats below but putting up walls to section out the space would ultimately lead to even smaller quarters with low hanging ceilings that occupants would have to duck in certain places to access. Peter felt the inconvenience of trying to rent such rooms might not be worth the trouble. It was suggested that the space might also be its own flat. A sort of studio suite with a view of the rooftops and distant tree line indicating the edge of Hyde Park.

“And you can charge more for the rent of this particular unit,” the contractors helpfully reminded Peter with a wink and a nudge. But this enterprise wasn't about money, Peter had enough of that without the extra income. And that wouldn’t do for this particular experiment. This was the control group and the variable of one tenant having the nicest flat was not part of the test. What if it was someone social? Who threw open door parties? Peter shuddered at the thought. No, that wouldn’t do. Maybe the space could be his personal storage in the building.

***

That evening the train out of Victoria was delayed on its way back to Kent. Leaves on the track. He really ought to see about getting a place in London to avoid all this back and forth nonsense.

***

In the end he opted to have the attic space finished with heating and its own bathroom. No kitchenette though as he preferred not to have his bed so close to his cooking space that the linen began smelling of whatever was being prepared. Besides, Elias preferred dining out, with Peter present and ready to hand over his card when the waiter arrived with the bill. They didn’t take the time to cook for each other. It wasn’t necessary.

When construction was finished and some of the first tenants were settled into their lonely little bedsits, he brought Elias for a tour of the building.

“The views of the Underground are a nice touch,” Elias said, looking out the window of the ground floor flat. Peter hummed in acknowledgement as a District line train full of passengers passed close enough to be able to make out individual’s faces as they rode past. Peter closed the curtain on the way out and lead him up the stairs. Elias stopped on some floors peaking in on the few vacant flats until finally they reached the door at the top of the narrow steps.

The room had been quickly finished upon Peter’s last minute request. Rough carpeting had been haphazardly laid across the space that held only the small steamer trunk that contained most of Peter’s personal affects, and an unmade double bed. Elias huffed his derision at the empty space as if its ascetic nature personally offended him. Peter couldn’t see what the problem was, he never felt he required a lot in the way of material goods. He had the few articles of clothing he wore in rotation including his uniform and a kit for toiletries. Useful things. He was never sentimental enough to keep anything for the sake of nostalgia, even in his sea chest aboard the Tundra. 

“Have you been sleeping here?”

“Sometimes.”

Elias looked at Peter then back at the sparse room.

“Tell them to take out this disgusting carpet. And you need some more lights. I can’t stay here with it so bare and dark.”

The original floors under the carpet and a layer of linoleum turned out to be a butterscotch colored oak. Garish floor lamps with damask shades and a pair of mahogany side tables and matching wardrobe were delivered over the coming month, clearly purchased by Elias, although the name on the billing receipt read “Peter Lukas”.

“I might actually deign to stay the night now that this place doesn't look so much like a prison,” said Elias, tucking his shirttails and doing up his cuffs. He made a show of slipping the key of the flat into the breast pocket of his woolen blazer, patting it twice. Earlier, Peter had placed this copy on the bedside table. It didn’t merit discussion. Peter knew Elias would come and go from the place as he pleased. It was just as much Elias’s space now too, what with all the decor.

***

As this was his main project, Peter stayed in England and close to London when necessary. However, more often then not he still went back to Mooreland Manor on business leaving the flat for weeks at a time, only to come back to find more interior decorating having been done in his absence. Peter didn't care much for it, but Elias had started staying over more often.

The room was beginning to look like an overcrowded Victorian cabinet of curiosities. A floating display cupboard hung on the wall next to the wardrobe. There was a globe that contained a mini bar. Scotch and rum and gin and vodka. Mixers, fruit and herbs in a miniature icebox below, no doubt for Elias’s fussy cocktails. A Persian area rug. A sitting area had been designated in the corner farthest from the bed containing a green velvet chaise lounge, coffee table and matching chesterfield. Peter ran his hand along the wooden trims of furniture feeling scratches that were not easily visible on the surface.

“I had the wood re-stained and the fabric reupholstered but the frames are original,” Elias commented. Peter turned to face him but Elias continued to move forward until Peter was forced into a sit on the couch.

“I had a similar set many years ago,” Elias moved to straddle Peter’s lap as he leaned back on the couch.

“I like old things...antiques...” Elias whispered, as a hand came up to pointedly tangle in Peter’s grey beard from one side of his neck, and a nose came to nuzzle at the other.

“Elias, even with the furniture you’re still the oldest thing in this room,” Peter said dryly.

***

The antique collecting didn’t stop with the furniture. They wandered in an out of the Portobello Road galleries.

“Why would you get these things if they aren’t particularly useful?”

“The use is that I want them and you’re going to buy them for me.” Peter wasn’t about to argue, but he did wonder at Elias’s particular selections. Nothing younger than Peter himself. Nothing from this century or even the last. All mid-nineteenth century pieces. A decorative telescope, a vintage corset, a broken bosun whistle, some taxidermy creatures and a strange silver item with concentric rings. The internal ring was smooth like a flexible flattened piece of wire, like a metal cookie cutter with a join that overlapped but did not connect and the outer ring containing short toothlike spikes facing inward and a screw fastener and hinge as if for adjusting the size.

“What is this?” asked Peter.

“Oh just something for teaching discipline. Very popular back in my day.”

Ah that was it. The reason for the particular period antiques. Nostalgic bastard.

Peter didn't know much about Elias before he was called Elias. Yes, the man looked (and sometimes acted) a good decade or so younger than Peter himself but the soul known as Jonah Magnus was much older and had known a very different time indeed. Peter often wondered if Elias ever thought about the people and things he had outlived. He clearly had a fascination for collecting remnants of the past and seemed to count Peter amongst his collection. Part of him did wondered if Elias cared for anybody as anything other than a possession. Cared for anything other than what he could possess.

Elias turned his head slightly in his direction as Peter handed over his bankcard to the antique dealer with the hand terminal.

Elias raised his eyebrows and smiled slyly.

“Thank you,” he said in an even tone. Peter just nodded as the items were wrapped, boxed, and handed over.

***

“Its starting to get crowded in here, maybe its time to clear out some of the things we don’t use,” said Peter as he accidentally hit his shoulder on the hanging cabinet only to stumble and hip checked the globe bar next to the bed where Elias was perched. He set down Elias’s Moscow mule on the side table but kept his scotch in hand.

“We use the couch, don’t we? And sometimes the chaise and one time even the rug,” retorted Elias smiling up at Peter from his reclined position against the pillows.

“What about any of these nicknacks taking up space? Its becoming impossible to move let alone live in here. Some of it needs to go.” Peter gestured toward the floating curio cabinet on the wall with objects on display against its mirrored shelves. Taking a sip before setting down his scotch, Peter got up and carefully took the cabinet from its hook and tipped the contents onto the bed next to Elias.

“Convince me its useful and you can keep it.”

As Peter focused on Disappearing the empty cabinet he pretended not to notice as Elias moved the antique brass bosuns whistle out of sight beneath a pillow. When Peter turned back, the pile on the bed included a large pewter button with an eye design, a rolled up antique corset, a glass vial, a handful of colored glass dice, a small flocked ring box, and the silver spiked ring object amongst other tat and sundry.

Peter picked up the vial “Smelling salts?”

“Tear catcher. For mourning.”

Peter gave him a look that asked when tears or mourning had ever been on the repertoire of one Elias Bouchard. He made eye contact with Elias as he Disappeared the vial. Elias was the first to break the staring match with a quick consenting eye roll. Gone were the dice. (“They remind me of your gambling habit.”) and the button (“What would you do with a single button?” “Oh I don’t know! I could have my tailor run me up a single buttonhole jacket!”) and the box which turned out to contain a 24k gold thimble (“Ok I don’t know what I was thinking with that. It was an impulse buy.”) Items Disappeared into the Lonely never to be seen again.

On it went until the bed was almost clear save for two objects. Peter held up the corset which unrolled with a great flapping sound. It was surprisingly light and sturdier than Peter would have thought it ought to be. Elias could tell he was thinking this as Peter gently lifted it with one hand, testing the weight.

“They don’t make them like this anymore,” said Elias appreciatively, “Real whale baleen.” He took it from Peter and wrapped it around his torso as much as he could by just holding it. The busk couldn't quite reach.

“You know, it wasn’t just the elegant society women who wore these,” Elias continued, as he saw that Peter wasn’t moving to Disappear it quite yet. “Some men wore them as a nice foundation for their fine suits.”

With that Elias gently laid the corset down and started unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt.

“What are you doing?” asked Peter, unsure if he should move to undress Elias or himself.

Elias paused momentarily in his unfastening, “I’m using one of the gifts you so graciously bought me.”

Gift. Peter often forgot that everything contained in this flat wasn’t really for him, not for his own pleasure but for Elias’s. Everything meticulously picked out and curated by Elias, because Elias wanted it so. Did Elias associate these things with his past life and was this his way of sharing that with Peter? Elias already knew about Peter’s past, his family. Had even watched him grow up to some degree while on business at the Lukas’s grand estate. But Peter knew little about Elias before they had started gambling and fucking. Knew little of Jonah Magnus’s life and what his youth looked like. Was it furnished something like this, dressed similarly to the contents of this flat in this old Victorian home?

Elias had gotten his shirt off, loosened the lacing panel at the back of the corset, and managed to hook the first couple fastenings in the spoon-shaped busk before finding the strong weave of herringbone coutil and laces wouldn’t pull any further over the bulk of the belt and waistband of his trousers. With a quick glance toward Peter who had simply opted to sit and watch, Elias laid back against the pillows and arched his hips off the bed to undo his trousers and slide them, along his pants, down his hips. Now naked from the waist down, Elias did up the bottom fastenings of the corset. He turned his back to Peter.

“Pull.”

As Peter set down his drink and reached for the laces, he heard Elias take a slow inhale as he began to pull the twin loops at Elias’s waist. The laces slid easily through the eyelet holes above and below his waist until the back edges of the corset were touching. Peter tied it in a strong but easily releasable knot. Elias turned to face him, cock clearly starting to show interest in current events. He sat straight backed and waiting. Elias always carried himself with good posture but the corset had forced it into perfection. The pale fabric of the garment reached only to the widest point of Elias’s somewhat skinny chest. Above the lace trimmed top edge Peter could see his nipples peeking out on every exhale. The long lines of encased whalebone flowed vertically along the corset and cinched alluringly and unnaturally at his waist.

“Can you breathe?” asked Peter.

“Yes I can breathe. Its not a torture device,” retorted Elias a bit shortly.

“Ok.”

Elias moved forward to kiss him but Peter caught him by the shoulders just in time.

“Oh no you don’t Elias! We’re not done yet.” Peter picked up last item on the bed, the silver concentric rings, balancing it on his index and middle fingers.

“What’s this then?”

“Oh, that one actually is a torture device,” said Elias taking the ring from Peter.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Excessive masturbation used to be considered a sickness. The ring helped mitigate the effects by stopping them at their source. Although I never found the effect very discouraging.” he added with a smirk. Peter gently took the device back from Elias not breaking eye contact. With the slight lift of an eyebrow Peter knew exactly what Elias was asking. He took Elias’s still soft cock in his hand and gingerly slid the ring down to the base. The smaller internal ring gently held his shaft away from the spikes of the outer ring by about a centimeter but a quick turn of the screw on the outer ring brought that distance down to just millimeters. Elias made a soft chuckling noise from low in his throat in anticipation and reached over to the nightstand to take a sip of his drink, finger of peeled fresh ginger bobbing on top.

Peter watched Elias’s cock twitch at having been touched and the sensation of the cool metal ring sliding down his length. The internal rings held loosely and accommodated the swell of Elias’s shaft as it hardened coming dangerously closer to the spiked teeth. Peter supposed that was enough cleaning for the day, and he gently pushed Elias to lay back against the pillows along the headboard. Elias fell back like he was hinged at the hips, the restrictive corset allowing no abdominal movement. Peter still perched on the edge of the bed, legs swung over the side. Elias’s body was rather pretty laid out for him like this, even if it didn’t originally belong to him. Laying there, adorned only in the gifts Peter had so willingly bought him. The only thing Peter had in excess was money and if money and sex were what Elias wanted from him, he saw no reason to object.

Peter began to stroke Elias, careful not to disturb the ring at the base of his cock. As his erection grew Peter could see the spikes pressing into the skin and Elias groaned as he rolled his hips gently in time with Peter’s strokes.

“I can’t believed you banished my things. We’ll have to go shopping again soon,” Elias teased. “I missed having a grand Victorian manor like this,” he added breathily.

That’s why you pushed me to purchase it. You wanted to play house.

The building still had a beautiful facade despite the inside having been completely changed. Elias had revived it in some small part. And Peter was beginning to understand the appeal and Elias’s sentimentality for that era. Victorians with their corsets and anti-masturbation rings. Peter had just thought of something else. A method his great grandfather had mentioned being used on the family’s prized stallions that pulled their carriages. He had heard of it being used on horses and consenting adults alike.

“Ok, turn over.”

Elias, for once, did as he was told and turned onto his front while Peter repositioned his knees underneath him and pressed a hand between his shoulder blades to force his chest and face down into the pillows. Peter took the finger of ginger from Elias’s copper coupe and gently trailed the wet root down his crack toward his asshole. Elias whimpered at the sensation although Peter couldn't tell if it was from being touched in such a sensitive area or from the tingling sensation the ginger would cause upon coming into contact with his hole. Elias took Peter’s free hand, took two of his fingers into his mouth, and began sucking.

After a couple more moments of these ministrations from Peter, he gently began to nudge the ginger inside and Elias let out a low moan around Peters fingers as the liquid from the ginger root coated his entrance. Peter removed the ginger before it could be sucked too far inside Elias and removed his fingers from his mouth before placing them at Elias’s twitching hole and plunging one finger in up to the second knuckle. Elias made a half choked sound, partially due to the restriction on his lungs from the corset, as Peter began to pump one finger in and out before adding a second and crooking them to press against his prostate on the inward thrust. Peter felt the small fluttering spasms of Elias around his fingers meaning the prickling sensation of the ginger must be working. Peter could faintly feel it on his fingertips where he had touched the root, the slight pleasant sting. Elias kept his hands flat next to his head, appearing to let Peter take charge.

Peter knew that Elias wouldn't touch his own cock unless Peter told him to, and Peter felt he’d already made enough concessions for tonight regarding Elias. He would just have to take what Peter was willing to give him in this moment. So Peter continued to brush his prostate on each thrust and watch as his cock bobbed and strained against the spiked ring.

It didn't look entirely unpleasant or dangerous enough to cause any external damage but Peter wondered whether Elias would be able to come with it on. Not slowing the pumping pace of his fingers, Peter reached around with his other hand to loosen the screw on the ring just as Elias's hand came down to grab his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t...leave it...” Elias choked out. Peter pulled his hand away, he’d let Elias have this too. He knew in the end, he wasn’t really calling the shots here. He’d always do exactly what Elias wanted. With that Peter crawled fully onto the bed and crouched over one side of Elias’s body enveloping it with his own and picking up speed on the fingers going in and out of his asshole. Peter leaned his head over so he could kiss Elias’s cheek, and Elias turned his head to sloppily kiss him on the lips, opening his mouth to Peter’s hot wet tongue.

“You can touch yourself if you like,” Peter whispered into Elias’s mouth.Elias just groaned but kept his hands right where they were by his head. Peter could feel Elias desperately thrusting back to meet his hand and could feel the shuddering clenching around his fingers. With a few final strokes Elias came with a long breathless moan and Peter gently removed him fingers after a few more deep strokes.

As he came drown from his orgasm, Peter could feel the resistance Elias felt against taking deep breathes due to the tightly laced corset. Peter rolled onto his back then reached over and with one hand undid the bow of the laces tied at Elias’s waist. The second the laces were released they loosened, no longer straining under the tension. Elias also rolled onto his back and released the busk fastening, inhaling deeply as it finally popped open. It fell away to reveal pink indents in the pattern of the corset’s boning channels all over his skin. Peter took in the patterns along his chest while Elias caught his breath.

“So I’m allowed to keep the-?”

“Yes you can keep the bloody corset and the cockring,” Peter interjected before Elias could finish. He unscrewed the ring and gently slid it from Elias’s softening cock and placed it next to their drinks on the nightstand. His cock had a crown of reddish marks around the base where the teeth had dug in.

They lay there in silence for a couple more moments before Elias turned on his side to face the rest of the room. Peter took this as his cue to wrap one still clothed arm around him. Elias’s hand reached under the pillow his head rested on. He brought out the bosun’s whistle and placed it into the hand Peter had wrapped around him.

“I want to keep this one. Actually, I want you to keep this for me,” said Elias. Peter knew the whistle was broken and therefore fairly useless by way of its original function but it was also the only thing Elias had ever given him without pretext. So he would keep it as Elias asked. Maybe an item for his sea chest.

“I’d like to replace this bed frame. Something wooden, maybe a four-poster?” Elias said, interrupting his thoughts before they could turn truly sentimental. Peter only gave an exasperated huff in response. He knew he would continue to oblige Elias’s desire for more. But Peter himself still never wanted for much. He only ever bought one thing for himself, and he would continue to pay to keep it.

**Author's Note:**

> Baby’s first fic. All comments should be directed to me via text to my personal phone number.


End file.
